Chapter Thirty-One
Down in the Abbey kitchens, the fur was flying - quite literally.
"There's ... there's ... fur in my flan!" Sister Aurelia cried.
All the other cooks and helpers froze at this outburst from the young healer mouse. Her voice had been quite loud enough, and her exasperated tone quite sharp enough, to cut through all the hubbub and clatter of the busy room. A few of the more timid Abbeybeasts cowered, knowing what was coming.
Down at the other end of the ovens, Broggen paused and looked up from the dough he was kneading, belatedly catching on to the fact that all around him had fallen silent and still.
Aurelia, lower lip quivering in suppressed emotion, raised her perfectly-sculpted pudding on its plate and held it up to the nearest window, peering into its honeyed translucence. Making strangled sobs of rage, she slammed the plate back down on the table and snatched up a large knife. Mercilessly she plunged the blade into the jiggling fluted amber dome, destroying the flan's artistic geometry and parting it well down the middle.
The white hairs were, as she'd feared, all throughout her creation.
"Ruined!" she wailed. "I worked all morning on this, and now it's ruined!" Her irate gaze sought out Broggen, and fastened upon the ermine stoat. "You!" she screamed, smacking down the knife and stalking toward him with paws balled at her sides. "You wrecked my flan, you hairy oaf!"
"Um ... are you sure it was my fur, marm?"
"It was WHITE!"
"Oh. Yeah, then I guess it musta been. I'm very sorry, Sister 'relia. I was trying t' be very careful ... "
"Careful? Ha! Why, I'll just bet ... " She stomped right over to where Broggen was working and stuck her nose down into the ball of dough. "Aha! Just as I suspected! Your fur's in this bread too! You're shedding everywhere you go!"
"Um ... well, I did take a bath this morn. It's not like I'm diseased or anythin'. Mebbe we could pick 'em out ... " Broggen began daintily plucking at the tainted dough.
Aurelia grabbed up a rolling pin and swung it at him, connecting solidly with his hindquarters. Broggen winced in pain.
"It's not the point whether you took a bath this morning, you idiot! Once fur gets into food, it's ruined! Spoiled! Worthless, just like you!"
"Enough of that, Sister Aurelia!" Friar Hugh sternly admonished. The whipcord-thin mouse chef stepped forward from the crowd, paws on hips. "I'll not have anybeast harming another in my kitchens! And you of all mice! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
Aurelia let the rolling pin slip from her grasp and fall to the floor with a loud thunk. "But ... he ruined my flan!"
"So make another one, and put this one out for the Sparra. With all the worms and grubs they eat, I'm sure they won't turn up their bills at pudding that's got a few strands of stoat fur in it. Especially if it's clean stoat fur."
Hugh turned to the beast at the center of the controversy. "I'm sorry, Broggen, but you'll have to leave. I know how much you wanted to help out with preparations for the Nameday feast, but you've started your spring shed, when all your white fur turns to its summer brown. You'll be spreading hairs everywhere you go. I can't have you working around our food."
"Oh. Okay." Broggen rubbed gingerly at his rump, where a welt was rising beneath the snowy pelt. "I'm sorry I spoilt yer puddin', Sister 'relia," he said as he started toward the door.
Friar Hugh shadowed him, thrusting the plate with Aurelia's riven flan into Broggen's paws as the stoat departed. "Here, take this with you ... but make sure nobeast tucks into it who's not supposed to. I don't want to hear about any of this mess finding its way into the mouths of our Abbey children ... "
Broggen made his way forlornly through Great Hall and out onto the lawns, muttering to himself, "Huh! I'd like t' feed this t' HER! Can't blame 'er fer bein' angry, but that don't give her cause t' go whackin' my bum! Gonna have bruisin' down there fer sure. Ah well. Lessee now, where's a good place t' leave this sweet stuff where them birds'll get at it?"
He met up with Cyril and Cyrus when he was halfway across the lawn to the west wall stairs. The mouse brothers were just coming back down from the tolling of the midafternoon bells. Cyril regarded Broggen's burden with mild surprise. "Um, have an accident, Broggs?"
He filled them in on what had happened. "I was just takin' it up to th' walltop. It's th' tallest place I c'n get to without a ladder, not that I could climb a ladder balancin' this plateful anyway, an' so I figgered our birdfolk'd be more likely t' find it up there. Don't want our liddle furry lads 'n' lasses t' find it by mistake."
The two mice glanced up to where Droge and a few of the other Abbey youngsters ran and laughed along the ramparts. Pleasant spring days like this often brought out greater than usual numbers of Redwallers to enjoy the bright sunshine and mild breezes.
"We'll go with you," Cyril volunteered. "We can help you keep that hairy flan away from inappropriate beasts ... although, that Droge can be such a nuisance sometimes, I'm almost tempted to let him dive right in!"
"Now now, Master Cyril," Broggen said, "I already caused enuff of a scene in th' kitchens. Don't wanna be in any more trouble ... "
"Aw, we were just joshin', Broggs!" Cyrus looked to Cyril. "Um, weren't we, Cyr?"
"Sure we were, Cy." But Cyril couldn't stop giggling at the mental picture of feeding the tainted flan to the rambunctious 'hogchild.
Up on the walltop they met up with Smallert, who was helping to stand the afternoon's watch. The one-eared weasel greeted them with yet another comment on the culinary mishap. He burst out laughing when he heard the full story.
"Harr harr! I always envied you fer that sharp-lookin' white coat you grew fer th' winter, Broggsy! Glad t' know it's got a downside. Tho', it did get ya outta kitchen duty ... "
"But I wanted t' help out with th' Nameday feast!" Broggen complained, setting the plate atop the battlements where nobeast would be likely to step in it by mistake.
"Well, ya can't," Smallert grinned, "so you'll just hafta help us stand sentry duty up 'ere! Think you c'n tol'rate all th' sunshine an' blue skies?"
"I reckon I can tolerate it if'n I got no other choice," Broggen said, buoyed by the spirits of his friends. He leaned against the stonework, gazing out over the Western Plains. "Sure seems t' be takin' them slaves a long time t' get here. Holdin' up Nameday an' th' weddin's an' ev'rything. You'd think havin' our hares with 'em woulda sped 'em up a bit ... "
"Latest report from our sparrows says th' gang comin' along th' North Path should get here by evenin'," Smallert said. "More shrews, from what I hear, tho' this lot might have a few other beasts with 'em fer a change. That other bunch comin' 'cross th' Plains should get to our gates sometime t'morrer, an' they're a whole mixed lot - hares, otters, squirrels, 'hogs an' mice. Should be a right happy crew, once they clap eyes on our fair Abbey. No finer a place fer tired old soldierbeasts or homeless former slaves t' settle!"
"Speaking of settling ... " Cyril, feeling a little tired from his ringing of the bells, seated himself on a low stone bench that was built into this section of the battlements. Cyrus joined him without hesitation, but made sure to leave room for their larger companion.
"Saved ya a seat, Broggs," Cyrus invited, patting the sun-warmed sandstone.
The stoat massaged his smarting backside, still sore where Aurelia had walloped him with the rolling pin. "Um, no thanks. I'll jus' stand here an' guard this flan."
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From out of the gray gloom of twilight came the southbound wanderers. Most of the Abbey leaders, and quite a few curious onlookers besides, stood arrayed along the walltop above the main gate to receive the journeyers ... assuming they intended to stop at Redwall at all, but then, what honest beast in its right mind wouldn't?
"Ack!" spat Log-a-Log in disdain. "More o' them rude, pushy Northland shrews! I shoulda known!"
"Aye," said Alexander, "but it's not as large a group as some who've been down this way - not even a dozen, by my counting. And I see several others with them who aren't shrews."
"Yes," Vanessa affirmed. "A vixen, and at least a couple of ferrets or weasels ... "
"No decent sorts then?" Colonel Clewiston stood off to one side, paws clasped firmly behind his back. "Typical o' Urthblood, summonin' all his rabble down here t' stink up Mossflower."
"Now, Colonel," the Abbess said. "We have a couple of Lord Urthblood's former soldiers living here with us, and even your own hares have been heard to express fondness for them on occasion. I think you would have learned by now not to judge anybeast until you've gotten to know them."
"Oh, never mind him, Abbess," Mina dismissed the Colonel's attitude. "That old graywhiskers thinks it's his job to act that way. Broggen and Smallert have learned not to let such comments bother them, and so have I. One always must consider the source, you know."
"Hey there!" Clewiston puffed out his chest. "Watch who you're callin' gray there, madam! Happens t' be my natural colorin', don'tcha know. I'm still in my bally prime, an' I'll take on anybeast who intimates otherwise!"
"Settle down, you two," Vanessa requested. "Our travellers are almost here, and I don't want their first impression of our fine home to include us squabbling amongst ourselves!"
Old Arlyn turned to address the Gawtrybe squirrel. "Lady Mina, do you perchance know any of those beasts down there?"
"Oh, I very much doubt I would, Abbot. The only weasels and ferrets of Lord Urthblood's that I ever got to know were some of the top officers, and there's no reason any of them would be travelling on their own with these shrews. They're probably just woodland beasts in need who decided to tag along with this group when they heard the shrews would be passing by Redwall." Mina stepped up to the battlements alongside the old mouse and leaned out over them. "But I'll have a look, just in case."
The squirrel Lady was forced to eat her words moments later as the group drew up before the Abbey. Squinting her eyes to see through the gloaming, she muttered, "Captain Grayfoot? And ... Mona?"
The others looked at her expectantly. "So, I take it you do know some of these creatures after all?" Vanessa surmised.
Mina nodded. "That I do, Abbess. That tall male ferret, and the vixen too. I never would have imagined ... " She pulled back from the wall's edge and made for the stairs. "Well, I guess on this evening the introductions will fall to me!"
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Many of the Abbeybeasts stayed up on the walltop while Vanessa, Mina, Alex and Clewiston went down to greet the newcomers at the main gates. Montybank and several of his otters waited there, along with a number of the Long Patrol, to open the doors and escort the welcoming committee outside.
The others hung back as Lady Mina approached her acquaintances. "Why, hullo there, Captain," she nodded to the tall ferret, "and to you, Mona," she added to the vixen. "You were two of the last beasts I'd have expected to see down here in Mossflower ... in the company of shrews at any rate!"
"I'm to be Foxguard's permanent healer-in-residence, once that stronghold is completed," Mona the vixen explained.
"Ah, that makes sense," said Mina. "Mossflower will surely benefit from having a healer of your skill in the region. And I'm sure you'll find these woodlands a pleasant improvement over the harsh north." The squirrel Lady turned to the ferret. "Captain Grayfoot - if I thought to ever see you in these parts at all, I'd have imagined it would be at the head of a troop column."
"Been reassigned," the vermin officer responded tersely. "I'll tell ya all 'bout it ... later."
"Oh. All right, then." Mina stepped back a pace toward the Abbey. "I'd say welcome to Redwall, but that's the privilege of this fine mouse here. May I present you to the Abbess of Redwall!" She made a sweeping gesture toward Vanessa, who stepped out into the path.
"The evening shades grow deep, so I will keep this to basic introductions before ushering you all inside. I am Abbess Vanessa, and our doors are open to any weary travellers in need of food, drink and rest. Now, Lady Mina seems to know some of you, so we'll start there."
The Gawtrybe squirrel indicated the vixen. "Abbess, I am most pleased to present Mona of Rivenwold, a healer of such talent as has never been seen in all the lands. If you found Machus's abilities to be amazing, I can assure you that Mona's surpass even his. She will be living at Foxguard, and will probably wish to stay here at the Abbey until Foxguard is completed ... although I should not presume to speak for her."
Mona stepped forward and gave the Abbess a paw-at-the-waist bow. She was a dainty and diminutive fox, half the size of the average male of her species, with fine lines, petite proportions and a flawless coat of rich red fur showing from beneath her elegantly simple travel clothes. She was perhaps the prettiest creature Vanessa had ever seen.
"I would be most pleased to dwell here for the coming season, if the Abbess would have me," Mona said in a smooth and melodious voice that perfectly complemented her physical appearance.
"A healer whose skill surpasses that of Machus?" Vanessa said, impressed. "I find such a thing difficult to conceive. In case you were not aware, good Mona, Machus is revered here at Redwall for saving the life of one of our youngsters last summer. The news of his death saddened us greatly. Did you know him?"
"Of course. Machus travelled from one side of the Northlands to the other in his campaigns with Lord Urthblood, getting to meet most of the creatures who live in those lands. I was at his side for several battles ... helping to tend the wounded, of course, not to take part in the actual fighting."
"Ah," Colonel Clewiston said from over Vanessa's shoulder, "so you're no kind o' fightin' beast yourself?"
Mona casually drew aside one flap of her dress jacket; a pair of matched daggers, one above the other, were strapped to her left side just below her ribs. Clewiston and Alexander both tensed at this display.
"These are my only weapons. I know how to use them ... if I am forced to. But I prefer a life of peace and healing to one of confrontation and conflict."
"Aha," Vanessa said slowly. "Well, a beast has a perfect right to defend itself, especially where you come from. I can assure you, though, that you'll have no need of those blades within our walls."
The Colonel, misunderstanding her meaning, stepped forward and held out an upturned paw to Mona. "Right, then, just pass over those knives, missy, an' you'll be free t' enter."
"Oh, no," Vanessa said, "Colonel, I wasn't suggesting ... "
"It's quite all right," Mona acquiesced, unfastening the daggers in their holders and yielding the sheathed blades to Clewiston. "As you say, Abbess, I will not need them here, and I trust this honorable hare to take good care of them for me."
Clewiston stepped back behind Vanessa, not the least bit abashed or chagrined by his attitude of open mistrust toward the healer vixen.
"Well," the Abbess said, striving to salvage the situation, "it looks as if we're now going to have a Mina and a Mona living at Redwall! I hope that doesn't get too confusing!" She regarded the two ferrets, a male and a female. "And who do we have here, Lady Mina?"
"Captain Grayfoot, of Lord Urthblood's forces," Mina motioned to the male, "a brave and honorable fighter whose blade has put many an evil beast in its grave. Captain, the Abbess Vanessa."
Grayfoot performed his own bow. "An honor, ma'am. This's my wife Judelka. She's with child, an' it were our hope that she could stay here 'til she gives birth."
"Of course, of course," Vanessa hastened to agree. "It's for precisely such things that Redwall is a haven. Childbirth can be difficult, and we can provide the best care and comfort for those circumstances. Judelka, you are welcome to the best of everything we have so that your son or daughter's entry into this world is as free of trouble as it may be."
Mina winked at Grayfoot. "Never knew you had a wife, you old campaigner!"
"Yah, well, we're still kinda newlyweds," the ferret captain answered. "Judelka 'n' me was married over th' winter, while you was down here in Mossflower. Lord Urthblood gave me leave t' come down t' these gentler lands t' settle an' raise a family."
"I'm surprised he agreed to release you from service," said Mina. "Few ferrets up north have your seasons of experience under their belts. I would not think he would be willing to lose one of his top captains without very good reason."
"Well, I guess it's in way o' reward fer all my seasons o' faithful duty." Something in Grayfoot's tone said he was not entirely comfortable with this line of questioning. Mina promptly dropped it, inwardly puzzled.
"It must have been hard, travelling here from the Northlands at this time of year while in a family way," Vanessa said to Judelka. "Is there anything you'll be needing right away?"
"No ma'am," the ferretwife replied in a voice so low it could barely be heard. She met Vanessa's gaze for the merest of instants before lowering her eyes to the ground once more, her paws staying folded beneath her travel cloak.
"Just give 'er a nice cozy chair an' a pillow she can put 'er footpaws up on, an' she'll be fine," Grayfoot assured the Redwallers. "We don't wanna be any more trouble'n we hafta."
"Chairs and pillows we've got aplenty," Clewiston said, coming forward once more with his paw out. "Your sword, Cap'n."
Grayfoot's paw went protectively to cover the hilt of his weapon. "My blade's my symbol o' rank an' badge o' honor. I yield it to nobeast."
The Colonel scowled; after Mona's cooperative attitude, he hadn't expected such resistance from the ferret. "Well, then, you ain't gettin' inta this Abbey, chappie."
Grayfoot looked hard at Vanessa. "I'll surrender my sword, but only if the Abbess commands it herself."
"Oh ... um ... " Before Vanessa could decide how best to handle the situation, one of the shrews strode forward and lit into Clewiston.
"Aw, go twiddle yer ears, hare! This ferret don't hafta give up his blade t' nobeast!" The rugged-looking creature tipped a salute toward Vanessa. "Sergeant Fryc, at yer beck 'n' call, Mother Abbess. An' y' can take my word as a shrew o' honor that Cap'n Grayfoot here's as upstandin' an officer an' gennelbeast as any you'll meet anywheres. Don'tcha let this suspicious flopears browbeat ya inta makin' 'im surrender his toadsticker, 'cos that'd be a downright injustice."
Vanessa shifted her gaze to Lady Mina. "You know this ferret better than any of us, My Lady. I'll go by what you say. If it were up to you, would you allow Captain Grayfoot to wear his sabre inside the Abbey?"
A smile lifted the corners of the Gawtrybe squirrel's lips. "If I recall, Abbess, you were having a very similar debate in this very spot last summer about a certain fox whose name is now generally revered at Redwall."
"So we were." Vanessa smiled back knowingly. "Are you then putting Captain Grayfoot in the same class as Machus?"
"Nobeast is in the same class as Machus," Mina said. "But Grayfoot never would have risen to the rank of captain if he hadn't deserved it in Lord Urthblood's estimation. Yes, I know him, Abbess. And I would trust Grayfoot with his blade in the midst of battle, or amongst the children of Redwall."
"Then that settles the matter to my satisfaction. Captain, you may keep your sword." Vanessa ignored Colonel Clewiston's subvocal grunts of disapproval as she waved the entire assembly toward the open gates. "Let us go inside before it grows any darker out here. Most of the Abbeybeasts have already eaten their evening meal, but I'm sure we can scrounge up something fit for a band of hungry travellers."
